Virtue could see to do what virtue wouldBy her own radiant light, though sun and moonWere in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdoms selfOft seeks to sweet retired solitude,Where with her best nurse ContemplationShe plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings,That in the various bustle of resortWere all-to ruffled, and sometimes impaird.He that has light within his own clear breastMay sit i th centre and enjoy bright day;But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughtsBenighted walks under the midday sun.